± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
It is not enough to simply rule. To boast a crown on one's head and call yourself King. It takes more than titles and positions and the Chamber King could no longer leave the Kingdom to tend itself. Once more their numbers had slowly dwindled, tapered away with the closing of the year and it would seem that Winter’s snow had begun running off all manner of life- including the herd.
True he could manage to fill it, if only spreading his own lines to fill the empty crevices was enough. While that might all sound good and well, he and Malis could not be left to populate the Chamber themselves- the poor woman. Killdare shook his large head at the thought, tangled tresses of wavy black moving stiffly against particles of ice. This year it seemed winter had come with a vengeance or perhaps it was only because he had nothing to warm himself with now, no fire to burn within the very folds of his earthy skin. He was starting all over in that regard, his winter coat still not quite thick enough for his liking and it would not soon fill to what it should, what it could.
Alas, that was yet another price he paid, another tribute to the Chamber he would call it. Sometimes She took and took, yet he did not break at Her greed, instead he bent. He would always bend when it came to Her, as he very well should. For all She took She had given just as much or more, for all he paid there were still things She could rob him of and yet She did not.
Once again She provides, his glassy eyes falling on a lone mare in the field. Her belly is swollen with child and he wonders if this is some sort of game She likes to play with him, sending him damsels in distress to test him. Each heavy foot fall receives a resounding crunch beneath his weight as he stalks towards her, greeting her in deep baritone before he finally stops. Close but not too close, Gods know what kind of circumstance had left the woman in the bitter winds full of child and empty of hearth. “Hello. Killdare of the Chamber and you might be?” he offered then he asked, doing his best at diplomatic banter.
True he could manage to fill it, if only spreading his own lines to fill the empty crevices was enough. While that might all sound good and well, he and Malis could not be left to populate the Chamber themselves- the poor woman. Killdare shook his large head at the thought, tangled tresses of wavy black moving stiffly against particles of ice. This year it seemed winter had come with a vengeance or perhaps it was only because he had nothing to warm himself with now, no fire to burn within the very folds of his earthy skin. He was starting all over in that regard, his winter coat still not quite thick enough for his liking and it would not soon fill to what it should, what it could.
Alas, that was yet another price he paid, another tribute to the Chamber he would call it. Sometimes She took and took, yet he did not break at Her greed, instead he bent. He would always bend when it came to Her, as he very well should. For all She took She had given just as much or more, for all he paid there were still things She could rob him of and yet She did not.
Once again She provides, his glassy eyes falling on a lone mare in the field. Her belly is swollen with child and he wonders if this is some sort of game She likes to play with him, sending him damsels in distress to test him. Each heavy foot fall receives a resounding crunch beneath his weight as he stalks towards her, greeting her in deep baritone before he finally stops. Close but not too close, Gods know what kind of circumstance had left the woman in the bitter winds full of child and empty of hearth. “Hello. Killdare of the Chamber and you might be?” he offered then he asked, doing his best at diplomatic banter.
KILLDARE
King of the Chamber
